Barry Goldheart
by Tora Macaw
Summary: First, there was goodness. Then, there was Barry...


Greetings. I wrote this due to a good friend of mine. Slanther...as he likes to be known around the net... is a good friend of my family. He visits as often as he can and is very much into role playing games. His favorite created game character is called Barry Goldheart.

By the time he had finished telling me about Barry and campaigns he'd been on, I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe! Slanther made him sound like so much fun that I couldn't help but write a little random tale about him.

So without further delay I give you; "BARRY GOLDHEART"

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Acknowledgement: This story is an original work of fiction based on the ideas of my friend Slanther.

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Story written by; Tora Macaw

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In a different time, in a different place, there was a universe much like our own. For centuries without number, the realm had been mostly known as the world of ordered magic and the magic was good. It was a green land, a prosperous land and it was full of wise kings and bold heroes; strong, handsome men and beautiful woman boasting feircesome, powerful names like "Hinogashi; the exotic blade" or "Ne'uriel; the moonlight lady".

Sadly, this fine world of peaceful light was destined to fall into the depths of chaos and darkness and it was all thanks the unbelievable stuff up of one unbelievably stupid crusader; a charming and charismatic young man, called Barry Goldheart...

Come with me now as we travel through the mists to a place five years after the dreadful event that was known as the 'Crimson hell-blast of the midnight doom.'

Before us lays a tavern and it's here where the tale begins.

The forest had ended at last. Moving out of the tree line, a merchant lifted his fingerless glove covered right hand to shade his eyes as he squinted into the sun. Judging by the angle, it was fast approaching nightfall and grateful to be clear of the pines that had been attempting to close in around him since dawn, the old man was looking forward to the peaceful tranquility of an inn's quiet hospitality.

Shrugging himself deeper into his well worn, trail dust covered coat, he smiled through his scraggily beard while imagining the hot meal, mulled wine, and soft bed awaiting him. He'd made enough gold on his last trip to be able to stay several days. Chuckling in anticipation, he snapped the patchy leather reins held in his work roughened fingers.

"Come on Stardust old girl, we are almost there."

Snorting as if eager to reach a warm comfortable stable at last, the large grey mare pulling the cart increased her pace; only to abruptly slam to a startled halt as her head flew up in alarm.

A loud snort of fear erupted from her; the horse's formally placid dark eyes going huge and round so the whites showed as they rolled in terror. Huge round hooves clattering on the cobbled roadway as she tried to turn, the clearly disturbed equine tossed her head to frantically fight the bit in her foaming mouth.

For a few long minutes, the merchant had his hands full controlling his horse and once he'd successfully managed to stop his friend from bolting, the man frowned as he sought out the reason behind her unheard of behavior.

The tavern lay before him as it always had. It was a large two story wooden building with large dark glass windows and a messily thatched roof. A string of freshly lit lanterns hung from wide wooden beams; the soft orange flames within gleaming gently upon the garlands of sweet flowers adorning the roughly hewn railings of a wide veranda. The few heavily built horses tied to the adjoining hitching posts stood quietly; their resting left hind legs cocked as their relaxed mouths slowly chewed upon their silver bits and they sleepily gazed ahead of them out of blood red eyes.

Shaking his head, the man blinked then stared hard. He was certain that no equine anywhere had red eyes, yet there was no mistake. Just as he was starting to ponder the animals' strangeness, a man abruptly exploded through a window with a splintering crash.

Rolling a short distance across the dry ground, he stopped; then slowly pushed to his feet. With ponderious, deliberate movements, he brushed a layer of glass and dirt from his rusty chain mail before his right arm creaked into the air. Croaking a long, slow, dry sounding; "You bastard." as he shook his fist, he began shuffling back to the now gaping hole in the tavern wall.

Lifting its head, one of the horses politely asked the man to please take his games elsewhere before resuming its interrupted nap.

At that point in time, the merchant noticed something rather disturbing; the horse's mouth was full of teeth that a wolf would be proud of and that the man swaying around beside it had no jaw. In fact, the man's entire face looked as if he had stuck it in a mincing machine and that his hair appeared to have been hacked off with a blood covered battle axe.

Trembling at the terrible sight the old man was yet to be traumatized for roughly three seconds later, two skeletons wearing ragged leather amour were forcefully thrown out of the same window. Hitting the ground with a rattling thud, the boney creatures swore as they leapt up and then jumped back into the building with a happy cry.

From within the tavern, the merchant could just make out the shapes of many other such undead horrors and hastily agreeing with his mare's shocked whinny, the man promptly allowed the horse to pull the cart around then flee for their lives.

Meanwhile, in an upstairs bed room, Barry woke up.

Blinking his eye sockets so the black holes within were momentarily hidden, the most powerful Litch in the realm sat up to stretch his skeletal arms and yawn mightily. Smacking his lipless mouth, he grinned through his bare teeth before frowning at the noise drifting up from below.

"Looks like they are at it again." he muttered before more air hissed through his head from the force of a second yawn.

Pushing three sleeping bodies of his nine wives off his thin legs, Barry peeled the arms of a fourth off a non existent left bicep before roughly shaking the hands of a fifth from his shoulders.

Snuffling as their slumber was disturbed; the crowd of women piled in the large bed murmured a few sleepy complaints before a chorus of peaceful snores once again filled the room.

Stepping clear of his partners, Barry slid his boney feet into a pair of soft pink bunny slippers then reached for his bright purple silk bath robe. Lazily pushing his arms through the long sleeves, Barry voiced a low sigh of pleasure. Silk was so smooth, so nice and felt like soothing liquid upon his skin. The trouble was he didn't have any.

For the past five years, he'd been unaware of his condition. Whenever he looked at himself, he saw only a handsome hero with flowing golden hair, great body and beautiful blue eyes. The trouble was, everyone else saw the same thing courtesy of his amazing charisma. People viewed him as a king or a god. It was truly a great pity that in reality he was undead and that he was also completely insane.

But Barry wasn't bothered by such trivial little things. He ate, drank and slept like a normal person. He enjoyed walks in the sun, defeating deadly creatures to save the innocent and his sex life was without a doubt the most truly interesting concept in the cosmos. (If one could resist making 'boner' jokes but that _never _happened) All in all, Barry knew that life was good but at that particular moment in time, his friends play time had ruined his nap and that was bad.

Forcefully knotting his robe ties around his waist, Barry finished with a sharp tug then stalked to the door. Wrenching it open, he left the room then went down stairs; firmly planting his feet with every step he took.

Stopping just before the last stair, Barry glared at the lively scene taking place in the bar. Swords were swinging and fists were flying as battle axes whooshed through the smoky air. A few skeletons sang while tossing back tankards of ale before smashing the bases of the heavy vessels over their fallen comrades' heads. Off in a quiet corner, several drop dead gorgeous bishi vampires nursed their wine glasses while sneering their disgust at the appalling spectacle.

At least fifty zombies moaned and gibbered as their arms flailed in every direction while a mass of other skeletons happily beat the undead day lights out of each other.

Knowing full well that he could be heard over even the loudest of dins, Barry puffed out his chest to growl a throaty: "What the heck is going on here?"

It was a magnificent call full of rich baritones and authoritive tones and it was an absolute tragedy that not a single one of his soldiers was paying him the slightest hint of attention.

Abruptly deciding that stronger measures were called for, Barry muttered under his breath as his boney hands met then curved over each other. A clear blue light formed in the center and had anyone noticed, they would have run away screaming. Unfortunately, everyone was having too much fun with their brawl and with his spell complete, Barry muttered the words; "Chill out boys." while snapping his arms forwards.

Instantly, a bright light lanced throughout the room to freeze anything it touched and in mere seconds, the shattered bar was silent and still.

Strolling past tight packed groups of frozen undead, Barry sauntered up to the long service bar. Rapidly tapping an index finger against the smooth wood, he called out to the frozen man standing behind it.

"Innkeeper!"

A pair of ice bound dead fish eyes stared back at him. Blissfully unaware that anything was amiss, Barry cleared his throat then smoothly proceeded to order his evening meal.

Unfortunately, the poor man would remain incapable of blinking... let alone moving... for at least two hours. As the minutes dragged by and random tumble weeds rolled past while a desert wind sighed mournfully, Barry lost his patience.

"Fine!" he grumbled. Drawing himself up, he spoke with calm dignity. "I'll get it myself thank you!"

Sweeping past the motionless inn keeper, he marched proudly into the cramped kitchen. Placing a frayed hat upon his bare head, Barry rolled up his sleeves and tied a frilly apron over his robe. Cheerfully whistling, he started to make his favorite meal; pickled fairy, vegetable and beef soup with strawberry short cake and lightly whipped cream for desert.

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Endless...

Thanks for reading. According to Slanter, Barry can get much weirder than I've written him. Are we all afraid yet? LOL.

Okay, back to my main story. Runs...


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